I Need You
by justagayshark
Summary: When someone does something truly unthinkable to Brittany, Santana is the first person that she turns to. Brittana. Warning: Mentions of rape


**Title: **I Need You**  
Pairing: **Brittany/Santana**  
Summary: **When someone does something truly unthinkable to Brittany, Santana is the first person that she turns to. Brittana.

**Warning: Mentions of rape.  
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Santana stirred when she heard the first knock at the door, deciding to ignore the sound and fall back into her deepening sleep. She did the same the second time, the third time, and the fourth.

It was only when a fifth slow, defeated knock sounded through the room that the girl reluctantly got to her feet, groaning as she threw the remote back onto the couch.

She hated being woken up more than anything, and whoever was at the door was about to feel the brunt of her annoyance. If they didn't have good reason for being there, a door would swiftly be meeting their unwelcome face.

She angrily gripped the door handle and swung it open. "What?" she said simply before recognising the girl that stood in front of her, "oh, Britt. Hi."

The other girl didn't move. Her eyes didn't venture from their fixed gaze on the floor, her cold, shivering breaths didn't stop. Her wet hair lay messily across her face, her body still stood in the harsh rain that was pounding down onto the ground.

Santana couldn't tell if the girl was crying. Her face was wet from the rain, droplets of water falling from all parts of her body, but the slight red puffiness of her eyes was enough to cause Santana concern.

"Britt..." she let out softly, not sure what to say. "Britt, are you okay? Come in." Panic was thick in her voice as she moved to the side and ushered the girl in, delicately placing her hand onto her wrist to guide the seemingly lifeless girl into warmth.

"I didn't know where to go," she sounded, her freezing voice wavering as she spoke.

Santana closed the door quickly behind her, gently urging the girl towards the couch that she had previously vacated. She suddenly felt a huge well of guilt for leaving her best friend out in the rain, begging for entrance, and found herself apologising as she sat the girl softly down.

Again Brittany didn't move; her gaze still fixated on the ground and her arms now tightly crossing her chest.

"Britt seriously, you're scaring me," Santana admitted honestly, sitting herself beside the blonde.

"I didn't know what to do so I came here. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she tried desperately to comfort the girl, who seemed unmoved by anything that was being said. "What's wrong? What's happened?" she asked frantically.

Brittany stayed silent.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she continued her questions, hoping for some sort of reply; an explanation as to why her friend was sat in her house at one o'clock on a Sunday morning, soaking wet and shivering.

She observed the girl further. Her t-shirt was muddied, her long skinny jeans in much the same state. Her fingernails had clumps of dirt lodged into them, something that was extremely out of character for the usually pristine Brittany, and her neck had huge bruise on it's side; a mark of purple and red that Santana immediately identified.

"Who did that to you?" she asked almost breathlessly. She had never seen Brittany looking so dishevelled, and she had certainly never seen a love bite upon the girl's neck before. They were forbidden sternly by Coach Sylvester. She had always been careful never to give Brittany one, the girl showing the same courtesy back, and any other boy was always given strict instructions to stray away from doing so.

This mark was definitely no mistake.

It was large; it's colours were bold and harsh. It looked painful.

"Britt, who did it?" she asked the silent girl yet again, this time moving her hand to slowly graze the skin with her fingertips.

The other girl instantly whipped her hand away, jumping to her feet mere seconds later. "Don't do that," she shouted, the sound of pleading evident in her voice.

Santana pulled back sharply, wide-eyed as the usually subdued cheerleader leapt to her feet. "I'm sorry," she exhaled, a look of almost fear on her face. She had never seen Brittany this way before.

After a second, the look of anger and defensiveness melted from Brittany's face, a single tear escaping down her drying face. Her lip soon began to tremble, her arms tightly wrapping around her chest, gripping herself tightly as the first sob took over her. "San..." she whimpered softly, "I need your help."

Santana quickly got to her feet, her actions slowing as she approached the girl, this time taking extreme caution as she placed a soft hand onto Brittany's shoulders. She caught the girl's bloodshot eyes, a tinge of pain shooting through her chest as she saw that the pools of radiant blue had died away, and nodded reassuringly. "You know I'm here," she almost whispered, her other arm crawling onto Brittany's second shoulder.

It took only seconds for Brittany to dive into the awaiting girl's embrace, her hands throwing themselves around Santana and pulling her tightly in. She was almost clawing at her back as her cries took over her, tears pouring freely and soaking Santana's chest as they fell.

The dark haired girl held on just as tightly, her own eyes beginning to water as she stroked the cold, damp blonde hair in front of her. She repeated her reassuring words into Brittany's ear faintly, both of their body's gradually sinking to the ground.

She kissed her head gently and waited for the sobs to slowly subside.

* * *

They had been in the same position for six minutes before the harsh shaking of the taller girl began to soften.

They had been in the same position for eleven minutes before her breathing began to even out again; her deeper, softer breaths dancing across Santana's chest.

They had been in the same position for fifteen minutes before Brittany's grip loosened, slowly pushing herself back away from the other girl and sniffling away the remains of her heartache. She moved her hand to her eyes, wiping them quickly, swiping her nose as it passed.

Santana moved her hands to Brittany's face, softly cupping her cheeks and moving her head so that she was looking at the girl directly.

Her face was puffy; her eyes red and cheeks stained with mascara that had been running since she had arrived out of the rain. Her lips were still quivering, despite the fact that she had felt strong enough to push herself away from their embrace, and her hair was still sprawled across her features.

She moved one hand to push the hair away, gently placing them back and moving her thumbs to dry the girl's cheeks, ridding her of the tears.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked wearily, looking into her eyes reassuringly.

She knew the answer. She had known since she saw the mark on the side of her best friends neck; since she saw the mud on her shirt, the back of her jeans stained brown from head to toe, every inch of exposed skin showing dirt.

She got a simple, slow nod in return, Brittany's pained eyes looking down again.

Santana's jaw clenched and her eyes tightly closed. She had never understood how this could happen to anyone, but Brittany was even more of a mystery. She was so sweet, completely innocent. She never made an enemy; not unless Santana had instructed her to do so, and would never do anything to hurt anyone for her own personal gain.

She was child-like.

Anyone that didn't know her as well as Santana did would think that she _was_ a child wrapped up in a seventeen-year-old's body. She talked about cartoons, hung out with her sister and her seven-year-old school friends like they were no different to herself. Santana had once even found the girl providing her deaf grandma with a running commentary of 'CSI : Miami'; not wanting to burst her bubble with the fact that the woman was deaf, and not in fact blind.

She was the sweetest, kindest person that Santana had ever met. They were complete opposites; if either of them deserved this, Santana did.

"I'm so sorry," the dark haired girl finally voiced, sincerity pouring into her words.

Brittany's whimpering began again, this time she found herself pulling her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly. "I told him I didn't want to..." she began, those seven words already shattering Santana's heart. "I told him that I needed to go home but he grabbed my arm, San."

"It's okay," Santana tried to sooth the girl, who's voice had begun to break with her last sentence.

There was a moment of silence before the blonde continued. "He pulled me back and it hurt my arm, so I asked him to get off me but he wouldn't..." she continued her story, taking frequent breaks to brace herself and take deep, quivering breaths. "He pushed me onto the floor-"

Santana's eyes stung as she listened to the story, forcing them firmly shut as she felt herself begin to break down. Hearing how someone had treated her best friend so badly; treated the one person that Santana truly cared about, truly loved, so badly.

She wished she could have been there to stop him.

"He held my hands above my head with one hand and opened my belt with the other-" she was stopped by a hiccup in her voice, the cries edging their way back. "I didn't know what to do, San," she let out as she finally began to sob, "I know that boys are supposed to do things like that but it didn't feel right-"

"No one is supposed to ever make you feel like that," Santana seethed, opening her eyes fiercely as she forced her friend to listen to her words, "no one is allowed to do that to you."

The blonde looked down again, her voice coming out muffled as she spoke. "He was pressing down on my mouth and opening his pants. I couldn't do anything. I was trying to push him away but he was too strong, and I couldn't scream because of his hand..." she paused, the vulnerability in her voice making tears stream down Santana's wounded face. "It hurt, San. It still hurts."

Santana couldn't hold back any longer. She leapt forwards, tightly pulling the other girl in and immersing her into her arms. "I'm so sorry," she cried, clinging on desperately.

She never wanted to let her go again.

* * *

She slowly started the shower, letting it run until it reached a nice temperature, and turned back to Brittany who sat lifelessly on the toilet seat.

She gently tugged at the hem of the girl's dirty t-shirt, looking into her eyes as if asking permission. The blonde raised her arms slowly, allowing Santana to guide the garment up and off over her head, letting it fall to the ground afterwards. She gradually did the same with her bra, her eyes burning as she saw the bruises that lay harshly on the girl's breasts.

Santana stood her up carefully, ridding her of her pants and briefs. She seemed to uncover new marks every time she took a new item of clothing from the girl's frame; there were bruises on her inner thigh, a large scratch trailing her leg below it, there was an already deep, purple bruise on her ribs, each one making Santana wince.

She took the girls hand and helped her into the empty bathtub, taking the shower head and slowly showering Brittany's battered, naked body.

She rubbed softly on her skin as the water trickled across it, tracing every sore with care. Slowly, she circled the soap into her body; the dirt being carried away by the water, cleaning him off of her.

She turned her attention to Brittany's face, looking into her empty eyes and softly kissing her cheek, letting her hand wipe away the stains that clung to her skin.

"I love you so much," she whispered sincerely.

**A/N: I don't know if this is a one-shot or if I'm going to write more. I really wanted to write something dark, so this happened...  
Thanks for reading, anyway! :)**


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